Forget It
by Helen N
Summary: The tongues of fire danced joyously around him, tempting him with their bright colours and warm exterior, burning down a home he never thought he'd need, smiles he never thought he'd cherish and memories of a time when pain was only a word. LxLight
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Okay, okay, I don't own it! Even so, you can't take L away from me! *huggles L plushie*

**A/N: **I know, I know, I said I'd be taking a break for a while, but this little fic wouldn't give me peace until I wrote at least a bit of it . And to think I had to take a break from the fic I took a break for from FaaW… Honestly, my attention span sucks T_T

So, I don't know where this one came from and I have absolutely NO idea where it's going, but it kept jabbing at my brain for one; and second, I promised **blueberry-90 **a fic a while ago (she knows what I'm talking about, through it's pretty deviated from my original idea XD) So, blueberry-90, this chappie is dedicated to you :)

I don't know when – or even if – I will continue this, since I'm lacking a plot, aside from fractured of ideas I've got and some weird influences from 'V for Vendetta' (and I DON'T want to copy .) but I'd be glad to do my best if you guys like it :)

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**Forget It**

**Chapter 1**

**Contact**

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Darkness.

That was the first thing he noticed every time he regained consciousness. The room was pitch black. Next followed the strangled moans of miserable people, the cries of dirty, barefoot children, searching fruitlessly for their mothers, and the clatter of chains dragged on stone.

He got up on all fours and crawled to the corner of the cell, trying to block out the sufferance and confusion of newcomers. He hated the newbies. They cried continuously for a long while and tried to get the others to talk to them. He didn't want to be dragged into anyone's misery when his own was quite enough.

Curling his legs under him, careful not to reopen the more recent cuts, he started biting his already damaged nails. He didn't know when he's picked up the habit. It was disgusting and his hands were permanently dirty. Shrugging to himself, he guessed it was back when he still felt nervous or even scared of the whole situation. A long time had passed since that, but he still found himself in need of such a primitive, yet familiar gesture every once in a while.

The cell's door opened with a sharp cry of rusty hinges and an ocean of artificial light invaded its inhabitants. Only in the soft, yellow glow could the true damage be seen. Terrified, dirty faces with unshaven cheeks, pale women with flowery bruises on their skin, children with thin rags to cover their nakedness; all dragging themselves further into the darkness, afraid of what the light could bring.

…all those creatures that have lost hope to even call themselves human.

Two silhouettes entered the cell and the blinding light disappeared after them. A flashlight took its place, faint glow surveying the cell as if searching for someone. The ragged creatures hid as much as they could, not wanting to let the light show the fear in their eyes.

"Excuse the filth, sir. They like to make a mess of themselves," the guardian's hoarse voice sliced through the darkness where the flashlight couldn't. "Told you, I could have brought him to you in the waiting room –"

"That's alright. I would like to see him myself," the other man's soft voice answered in and obviously fake Japanese accent. American maybe? They weren't that uncommon, after all.

The flashlight stopped on the boy in the corner, curled in a ball, and the two outsiders stepped to him, not sparing the other prisoners a second glance. A strong hand grabbed a flock of dirty, brown hair, dragging the lone prisoner to his feet.

He was not able to see the foreigner's face, only his well-groomed blue suit. The guardian's face, on the other hand, was fully visible with its balding scalp, yellow teeth, and beady eyes, sparkling with cruelty.

The flashlight danced all over the boy's body, making sure to expose every cut, bruise and cigarette mark that punctuated it.

The foreigner pulled a piece of paper from his coat and glanced between it and the boy's face several times. Did he have that many specific instructions that he had to write them down? An elegant, well manicured hand appeared from the darkness, grabbed the boy's face and twisted it so that he was looking directly into the light. Satisfied with what he saw, the foreigner quickly left go, as if burned.

As the paper was slipped back into the silky insides of the coat, an assortment of bright colours briefly danced in the light. A photograph?

"Ah, that's a nice one. Never had any complains about him," the guardian babbled on, trying to promote his goods. A second hand grabbed his face, twisting it in a different direction. "He must've had a pretty face not long ago, but that doesn't exactly matter now, does it? I'm told he did any housework exemplary. And… he wasn't half bad with other stuff either, if you know what I mean." A cruel chuckle.

The other cleared his throat uncomfortably. "What about his last master?"

"Oh, I heard he messed with the wrong people and got silenced when he stepped in the other side of the town. He was anti, you know. His sister didn't know what to do with this little guy," a slap in the back of the head, "so she sent him back here."

"I understand. How much to you want for him?"

"Well, I usually charge much more, but since you said it's your first one, I'll give him to you for just five thousand dollars." _Liar_. That was nearly _twice_ the normal price.

"It can be arranged." The foreigner did not give any sign that he knew or cared about being ripped off. "Lastly, can you please confirm the name again?"

"Sure, wait a minute."

The guardian revealed the folder he had been keeping under his arm and started turning the pages, index finger dragging itself downwards through the list of names and pictures. Around the half of the fourth page it stopped.

"Yagami Light."

The foreigner just nodded.

"Alright, I'll take him."

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Despite his mind's blankness, Light's body had trouble relaxing.

The immaculate interior of the limousine speeding down the street only made him more conscious about the pathetic state his body was in. His feet, covered in dirt and dried blood, felt nearly blasphemous on the white interior carpet, his clasped hands rested neatly in his lap, not daring to touch anything, and his eyes examined his surroundings subtly, careful not to look at his new… master.

Light had been more than surprised when the foreigner had taken off the cuffs keeping his hands and feet tied and asked him to enter the limousine. At first he'd thought he was already expected to prove how capable he was at the 'other stuff' the guardian had mentioned. But the other man had barely spared him a glance after entering the car beside him.

Concentrating on keeping the tremble out of his hands, he turned to the window and stared out at the scenery of Kanto. Or what was left of it.

The few buildings strong enough to not have withered way were heavily damaged, displaying broken windows, caved in roofs, even entire levels drowned into the heart of the earth. Few dared to enter a building anymore, as they could find the not yet detonated explosives still hidden in its entrails.

An image of a specific house appeared before Light's eyes. A plain, beige house with mediocre furniture and soft, polite chatter rebounding from its walls. A house hosting a certain room on its second floor, a room hosting a desk in its corner, a desk hosting a set of drawers, a drawer hosting –

_NO!_

His fingers itched for the familiar sensation of being raised to his mouth to bite the remains of his pitiful nails, but he resisted the sensation. It was bad enough that he was so out of sorts in the current situation, he didn't need to further make a fool of himself.

But why did he still need pride, after all? After all, it had been his downfall –

The car stopped just as his left hand was halfway to his lips. He quickly disguised it by scratching his other arm, then cursed himself for seeming even more ill-mannered than he was probably perceived to be.

The foreigner turned to him from the other side of the seat and Light could see himself reflected in the other's dark sunglasses. He truly looked dreadful.

"Well, we've arrived, Mr. Yagami," the man said emotionlessly.

Light was so concerned with the reflection of the fading green bruise on his cheek that he barely paid heed to the words. When he did, the first thing that registered was the obvious American accent, along with the appellative "Mr." The next thing he noticed –

"E-Excuse me? Sir?" he nearly bit his tongue to punish himself. He always forgot the 'sir' and it had never done him any good.

But, most important of all, why was he, a mere slave used for housework and entertainment, bought like an _animal_, addressed respectfully?

"Just enter this building and take the first door on the right on the third floor. Everything will be explained. I still have some business to attend to, but you will be alright by yourself won't you?"

Light nodded. There was little else he could do, after all. He opened the car's door and exited. He was still barefoot, so the hot asphalt burned his feet in the dying afternoon as he took step after step into the building he had been shown. He vaguely heard the limousine leaving with a motor's soft purr.

The building had once been tall; fifteen, maybe even twenty floors in total. Most of the lower windows had exploded but the glass had been long ago swept from the ground. The missing chunks of concrete from the roof were nowhere to be seen. There was no visible sign of the anguish the construction had suffered maybe not so long ago, aside from one thing.

It reeked of death.

The elevators inside had been completely destroyed. The metallic doors had been removed and, through the safety net placed to prevent accidents, Light could see the black abyss of hell itself.

Nothingness. That was hell.

The marble stairs were still intact, through obvious blocks of concrete and railing were sewn together in a varied assortment of colours. The cameras and bugs, staring down at him cruelly and catching his every breath, had been recently replaced, but the wallpaper remained chapped and the carpets remained burned.

The wooden door in front of Light, first on the right of the third floor, was frail and blackened. The hinges displayed their flowers of rust proudly and the knob squeaked when he turned it.

What was that place?

The room he entered had been designed to look as comfy as possible, despite the glaring damages. The carpet had been cleaned, through streaks of blackwash could still be noticed; new expensive-looking furniture had been brought and arranged in the centre, next to a cosy fireplace; dark, heavy curtains hid the replaced windows from view. A dozen glowing computers mockingly countered the room's homey appearance.

The fresh smell of lilies, trapped in a vase behind a stack of books, and the inviting perfume of peaches placed on the coffee table couldn't beat the faint scent of burnt flesh and fabrics, forever impregnated in the decaying walls.

Why had he been brought there? The place was half destroyed and certainly not liveable for long. The building could cave in any minute, for crying out loud!

And all those cameras… all those cameras watching his every move that very moment, stealing his every blink… who were these people?

In his haste of counting all the cameras in the room he didn't hear the door of an adjoining room creak open, neither a peach being lifted from its bowl and tossed into the air at regular intervals for a short while. When he saw a shadow dancing on the wall in front of him he turned around.

The effect was instantaneous. Adrenaline pumped in his entire body and blood reddened his cheeks. His fingers started shaking, desperate to be lifted to his lips. His eyes widened unnaturally.

In front of him… In from of him stood a dead man. A dead man staring at him and biting from a peach.

"You…"

"We still have a case to solve, Light-kun," L said as he chewed the fruit, unaffected. "Did you not vouch to catch Kira?"

Kira…

_Kira_.

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"_Light-kun?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Could you please pass me the sugar?" _

"_Get it yourself, Ryuzaki." _

"_But it is within your arm reach, Light-kun."_

"_That means it's not much of a bother for you to get up and get it. I'm in the middle of something." _

"_Light-kun has been very hardworking in the past few weeks."_

"_Yes." _

"_May I inquire why?"_

"_Because… we're going to catch Kira. Together, right Ryuzaki?"_

_-_

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**A/N:** So, did it confuse you to no end? If so, thank you, I've tried my best XD The whole idea was to give you an image of Light's confused state of mind. If you really want a hint, then I'll mention that the title is a pun. A huge one XD

I just remembered how I got the plot bunny. I was reading _Fahrenheit 451 _and fell in love with the whole 'post-apocalyptic scene' at the end of the novel XD

Please review if you liked it, it makes my day :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** And here's a second chapter I've been storming my brains with the past few days. It was a killer to give hints without giving away too much and ruining the fun XD The rating has been changed to M. There is too little M-worthy in this chapter, but be assured the fic WILL live up to its rating later on. Better safe then sorry, right?

Aww, so few reviews… It doesn't matter, I love you guys anyways *e-hugs readers* Thank you to everyone who reviewed and/or added this fic to their Alerts or Favourites! And **AmeRoasable**, this chapter's dedicated to you for being such a dear XD

I hope this chapter clears up things a little, as I realise the last one may have been even more confusing than I intended. So, read, enjoy, and don't forget to review! :)

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**Forget It**

**Chapter 2**

**Remembrance**

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Droplets of water steamed down Light's skin, caressing his wounds and cleansing his thoughts. Suds washed from his hair, disappearing silently down the drain. He didn't have the energy to do anything else other than massage his scalp with the sweet scented shampoo he had been provided, while his mind raced blindly.

L.

How had L survived? Last time Light had seen him he was… he had…

He was supposed to be dead! He was supposed to have burned alive along with the task force all that time ago! He was supposed to burn in the blazing pits of hell, not smirk mockingly at the remains of Light's shattered person! Out of everything that had happened, that was the one thing that could have benefited Light! Because, if L was dead, then –

… then what?

What did that train of thoughts mean? Had he wanted L dead that much? How could he benefit from such a thing? He couldn't seem to remember. And that conversation, that conversation with L that flashed in his mind when he had seen the man again… had they actually had it? Had he actually vouched to catch Kira? He couldn't remember that either.

The questions floated into thin air between drops of water, answers millimetres out of his grasp. What had happened to his brain?

He exited the shower cabin and goosebumps formed on his wet skin. He dressed in the pair of khakis and jumper that had been left for him – when? He could have sworn they weren't there when he started showering. Then again, he had already spotted two cameras in the bathroom, so any bit of privacy he might have had was compromised anyway.

He opened the wooden door and re-entered the cosy living room where L was currently residing, perched on an armchair in a position Light had long ago forgotten about, and typing away at a laptop. Upon hearing Light's bare feet paddle on the burnt parquet, L's gaze raised.

"Light-kun," the name rolled easily, as if only a day had separated them, "please have a seat."

Light obeyed and claimed the corner of the couch opposite of L, careful to occupy as little space as possible. L continued to type for a few minutes, paying little attention to Light, as he surveyed the room once more, looking at anything aside from the detective. Was he still a detective? He _had_ been a detective back then, right?

"I trust Light-kun must be hungry," the monotonous voice pierced the silence and Light's eyes turned to him, silently and unwillingly approving. L fished a cell phone from his pocket and, holding it between two spidery fingers, dialled a speed key. "I would like something to eat. Please bring some leftover chicken."

L was not looking at him, but the questions still rained.

"Has Mr. Black returned with you, Light-kun?"

Light frowned. Mr. Black? Was he supposed to know that name?

"The man who escorted you here," L clarified, noticing Light's confusion.

"Oh, he left… in the limousine. He said he had some business to attend to," Light answered quickly. He wondered why L was so interested in that man. He had never struck Light as emphatic.

"I see," was all L said before a heavy curtain of silence fell over them again.

Light had a million questions to ask. Everything was inhumanly confusing, starting with L's being alive and ending with Light's own presence in the current room. But the words refused to roll off his tongue. It had been so long since he'd spoken without being asked first that he was afraid to even strike an innocent conversation. L did not seem too keen on explaining himself either, thus the two young men waited in a chocking silence until the entrance door opened.

A young man entered, holding a tray of food. Something about him struck Light immediately as familiar, through he couldn't assign a name to the face. Most of Japan had black hair and brown eyes, but Light couldn't help but feel he'd met the older youth before.

"Light-kun?" the man also seemed to recognise him, as his eyes sparkled in surprise and he nearly dropped the tray.

Where had he met this man? He was sure he knew his name, it just wouldn't come to him!

"Ma… Ma- tsui?" Light finally managed to say.

The young man frowned for a second, before breaking into a grin.

"Light-kun, I haven't used that name in three years. It's okay to call me Matsuda now."

Matsuda, of course. How could he forget?

" _Ryuzaki, is there anything else I can do to help? Besides the manager job?" Matsuda asked hopefully._

"_You want to be useful?" _

"_Yes!"_

"_Then go get me some coffee," L finally drawled and proceeded to ignore Matsuda._

… **Wait!** When had that happened? Had that conversation even been real?! Light didn't remember ever hearing it, but how else could it pop in his head? Was he going crazy? But, if Matsuda was alive then –

"Ryuzaki!" Light found himself exclaiming a little too loudly. "Are my parents still alive?"

L stared at him for a few seconds, then turned to Matsuda.

"Matsuda-san, could you please bring us some coffee?" The words further reminded Light of the uncanny flashback he'd had. Had it been real after all? Why couldn't he remember? Three years weren't enough to forget a face, and Matsuda hadn't changed much.

Matsuda started protesting, but quickly gave up and left. Silence drowned the two once again, only this time L's blank eyes were staring openly at Light. It gave the brunet a very unnerving sensation.

"Light-kun should eat," L finally said, turning his attention back to the glowing monitor of the laptop.

Light glanced for the first time at the meal that had been placed in front of him. Roasted chicken and vegetables. Western food. As much as his stomach protested, eating had to wait. He needed some answers.

"No."

L didn't seem to register the word for a few seconds. For a person as spoilt as L, the simple concept of a refusal was probably unacceptable. Finally, he shut down the laptop and stared back at Light. The only light in the room was the soft glow of the dying fire's coals in the fireplace. Along with the comfy fabric of the couch, it made Light conscious of just how tired he felt.

"Yagami-san had survived the explosion the day the war started, along with the entire task force. After that I returned to America and did not keep in touch with any of them. One year ago I returned to Japan and alerted all the Kira investigation members through the belts I have provided them. Only Matsuda-san and Mogi-san answered the call. I'm afraid I do not know anything about the others."

Light found himself just nodding, gaze locked to his cold meal. Desperate to do something with his hands, he started eating, refreshed by the pleasant tickle in his taste buds. L continued to stare at him.

He didn't care that his family was probably dead. He had never actually cared for them in the many years they've shared a roof. They weren't a family per se, just a mob of very different people, unwillingly stuck as roommates. The only thing that sent shivers down his bones was that the only place he might have found shelter in was probably burnt to ashes.

He truly was alone in the world.

The mere thought made the food go sour in his mouth and he put down the fork, even if stomach asked for more. What was he to do? Travel from one master to another for the rest of his life, until the beatings and rape finally got the best of him? Why should he even try to escape anymore if he had nowhere to go to?

"Light-kun, I know this might be painful for you," his tone suggested that he could care less, "but I would like to ask you a few questions about the past three years."

Light had expected the question. After all, nobody took in a slave without asking him about his background. But had L lowered himself to such extents to need a slave when people willingly worked for him? What exactly was Light's purpose in such a situation?

"Who had been your first master, Light-kun?" L reopened his laptop, ready to type a name in the database.

Light thought hard. His first master… three years ago…

_Metal tore his skin as his hands lay handcuffed to the bed. Long, red nails trailed down his back, hard enough to draw blood. Long hair, crisp from so many chemicals, tickled his face and neck. Bare, flabby breasts were pressed to his chest, burning his flesh with their intrusion. The bed was squeaking painfully every time it hit the wall._

"_You're so… good, Light…" He wanted to sob at hearing the words._

"I don't remember. It's been long, I don't remember her name," Light piped in. His hands had gone ice cold in his lap.

"That's a pity. Do you remember why you were released from her service?"

"_You'll be put to death for this, you __**animal**__!" _

_He didn't listen. The metal crook came down again to hit the woman's mid-section, her limbs, her head. Up and down. Up and down. With every hit he felt the fury dripping out of his body, the utter torture that had taken over his mind evaporating into thin air. _

_Even as he dragged himself back to his cell and locked the door with a stolen hair clip, after washing himself repeatedly, his hands still dripped with her blood. _

**No!** That was not what happened! His brain was playing tricks on him again!

"Somebody broke into her house one night and assassinated her. Kira's supporters were suspected," he repeated the story the woman's son had been told by the police. After all, that was what really happened.

"I see," came the short, unperturbed reply. "Since Light-kun brought up the issue, who do you think was Kira?"

Kira? Why should he know, or even _care_, who Kira was?!

"I – I don't know," he finally said, staring into L's eyes confusedly. "But it shouldn't matter now, since Kira has disappeared years ago–"

"Disappeared?" L's fingers stopped midway to claiming another peach and he looked at Light surprised. "No, Kira has not disappeared, Light-kun. I would have trusted you to figure that out."

"But, there haven't been any criminals dying of heart attacks for three years. I thought the police had caught Kira–"

"Does Light-kun honestly believe Higuchi was Kira?"

Light frowned as his mind overflowed with bits of useless information. Who was this Higuchi? He didn't remember the media ever giving a name when the news was reported. Was he expected to know that man?

"Higuchi?" he tried innocently, hoping to gain some more information.

L just stared at him for a few seconds, as if trying to guess his thoughts, then opened the top file on the coffee table and extracted a picture, handing it to Light.

He knew that man!

"_Higuchi, put both hands up and step out of the car!"_

_The red car's door opened silently and the man exited, holding his hand up. Utter defeat was written on his face. The police officers apprehended him, handcuffing his hands behind his back and blindfolding him. _

"_Higuchi's been secured." _

"_Mogi-san, as planned, place the transceiver on him," Light's own voice ordered the men. _

"_Yes!"_

_A pair of headphones with a microphone was placed on the man's head and L addressed him. _

"_Higuchi, how were you killing people? Answer me. If you don't, we'll make you confess using any means at out disposal."_

"_It's a notebook…" the man finally muttered, low enough for only L and Light to hear through their own transceivers. _

**A n****otebook**?! What did he mean by that? Had he actually participated at Kira's apprehending?

No matter how much Light tried to rattle his brain, no more vague images appeared in front of his eyes. Just the picture of a man stuck between two ages with malicious eyes, well camouflaged in a mask of indifference.

"Higuchi Kyosuke, aged thirty-five at death, Yotsuba Corporation's technology section head at the time, arrested under suspicion of being Kira, died of heart attack a few minutes after being apprehended," L's monotonous voice droned on in the background while Light examined the photograph.

He was certain he'd been next to L in that vision, listening to Higuchi through his own transceiver. It seemed impossible that **he**'d helped catch Kira. Kira was… Kira was **God**. Gods weren't held in handcuffs and threatened into confession.

"But you know as well as I do, Light-kun," L's tone suddenly grew deadly serious, "that Higuchi Kyosuke was not Kira. There is only a seventeen percent chance of Kira actually being dead at the moment. I am convinced he is still out there, maybe in a situation in which he is unable to act."

Large, black eyes stared at Light in a nearly threatening way.

Light did not know what to say. Suddenly his mind was cleansed of any past Kira theories he might have had. Actually, specks, even whole chunks of memories seemed to be missing from his consciousness. Why hadn't he noticed anything until then? Why had L's appearance made conversations he's never thought existed appear in front of his eyes, made him question his faith in God, in life, in his own **intelligence**?

When had he first met L anyway? He couldn't seem to recall that either.

"Ryuzaki, why did you bring me here now?!" he suddenly exclaimed, unconsciously rising from his seat to stare the detective down.

L's answer was cut off by the door opening. Matsuda re-entered, holding a tray with two mugs of coffee. His eyes travelled from one young man to the other for a few seconds, frowning, before he decided to glare at L. His glare did not look in the least threatening.

"Ryouta, I thought we agreed not to question him tonight!" the young policeman said in a scolding tone, placing the tray down. L did not show any trace of resentment, but simply started nibbling on the peach he had been holding.

Ryouta. It made sense he'd change his name after all that time. Three years, he'd said? It seemed so much longer.

"Light-kun." He felt someone tugging on his sleeve and he turned to look at Matsuda. "I'm sure you're tired. Let's find you a room somewhere, okay?" Matsuda smiled warmly.

"Please give Light-kun my room. I will not be using it tonight." L played with the remaining cores of his fruit, seeming to ignore both of them.

"If you say so, Ryouta."

Matsuda led Light into the room L had not long ago exited, bid him a cheerful goodnight and closed the door.

It was much too extravagantly decorated, compared to the rest of the ruined building. The rich, maroon curtains hid the windows from view, drowning the room in a comfortable darkness. Only one lamp was lit and weak, trembling shadows danced on the blood-red bedspread. The children of fire were inviting him to join them into the warm comfort of the bed.

Fire. Why was everything bound to fire?

"Do you think Light-kun is going to be alright, Ryouta?" Matsuda's muffled voice passed through the dark, wooden door.

Unable to control his curiosity, Light gently leaned against the door, gluing his ear to the cold surface. Immediately, all the sounds in the adjoining living room, down to the gentle crackle of coals in the fireplace, became perfectly audible to him.

"Light-kun seems to be intact. Certainly, he will need a medical consultation tomorrow morning, but I can arrange something with Mr. Black, if he will return by morning."

Clatter of plates being picked up.

"Black left by himself again? Ryouta, I think he may be –"

"Please do not be rash, Matsuda-san. Be assured that I do have my eyes on him, through."

A short silence, covered only be dexterous fingers typing at a computer.

"Also, Matsuda-san?"

"Yes?"

"Please bring me all the books on psychology you can find in the building."

Psychology?!

"Eh!? But, why? Does it have something to do with Light-kun?"

Silence. Light guessed that Matsuda refused to take such a vague order without at least an answer to his question from L. Haven forbid, had that man actually grown a backbone?

"I am afraid Light-kun might have selective memory loss." L finally admitted.

**Memory loss?!**

Light displaced himself from the door and stared at the burnt piece of wood in shock. He felt his eyes enlarge painfully and his breath grow shallow. Air refused to enter his lungs and he felt like suffocating.

Memory loss?!

So **that** was what all those images meant. He'd lived them all before! He'd killed his first master, he'd been a detective along with L and he… he was against Kira! He didn't remember ever being anything more than begrudgingly neutral towards Kira but, apparently he'd helped to his capture.

It was all too much. All those pieces of puzzle that couldn't find their place in his mind, all those shadows dancing on the bed, mocking him in his ignorance.

What else was he forgetting?

**-**

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**-**

Light turned on his back and the rustle of sheets was loud as thunder in his ears. He hadn't been able to close an eye for hours. The harrowing silence and the dead, choking air in the room made his eyes stay wide open, even as his mind begged for blissful ignorance.

_I'm choking…_

The bar of faint light under the door reminded him that he was not the only one awake at such an ungodly hour. L was probably crouching on the same armchair, eating up book after book on psychology in the dim glow of the fire.

He turned onto his side, back to the thread of light, trying to force his mind to shut down. His eyes stubbornly refused to obey, choosing to glue themselves to the closed window, no longer trapped by the heavy curtains.

_I'm choking…_

He covered his head with the white pillow and his thumb made his way to his lips. Why was it so hard? All he had to do was close his eyes and relax. He wouldn't suffocate until morning.

His eyes still remained snapped to the closed window.

_I'm choking!_

Blood dripped from his finger onto the clean sheets. He'd bitten too hard again.

_I'm choking!_

The window glared at him with its shining glass…

_I'm choking!_

The window…

_I'm choking!_

The window…

_I'M CHOKING!_

He hadn't been able to get a blink of sleep that night without opening both windows in the room.

Only then had he realised just how much had been wrong with him all those past years.

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End file.
